


She's Not There

by jen131



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6911512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jen131/pseuds/jen131
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tensions rise while on a run when song lyrics serve as a reminder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Not There

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU to get where I needed to go. Also, I can’t kill Hershel. Enjoy!

Almost two weeks had passed since the prison was attacked.  So much had changed in those two weeks.  The entire front fence line had been destroyed, driven over by the Governor and his men.  They had captured Michonne and Hershel, a blade at the older man's throat as he shouted threats at Rick.  As the psychopath drew the blade back preparing to swing at Hershel's neck, a lone gunshot rang out, shattering the silence.  The Governor was shot in the head, the bullet exiting through his eye socket with a gush of blood as his body slumped over.  

 

Rapid gunfire was heard as the Governor's followers dropped one after the other.  

 

Rick saw the figure moving within the bushes, making a quick departure through the thickest part of the woods surrounding the prison.  He couldn't make out the face, but the glimpse of closely cropped silver hair confirmed his thoughts.  After casting her out, telling her she was a threat to his family, she came back and saved them all.

 

He still hadn't been able to talk with Daryl in-depth about the situation with Carol, about why he did what he did.  They talked for a few minutes before the start of ambush pulled them outside.  The angry redneck from the quarry was there, he could see it in his eyes.  He knew the conversation wasn't done, just placed on hold for the time being.

 

* * *

  


They were running low on just about everything after two weeks of sticking close to their prison home.  Rick was planning a quick run to gather some basic necessities from whatever kind of store they found first, be it a supermarket or a gas station.  He let it be known that he was looking for volunteers to go with him.  Daryl stepped up, mumbling something about not trusting Rick to bring people back.

 

The gas station they found was a veritable jackpot.  It was untouched providing ample amounts of food, drinks, pain relievers, and car maintenance supplies.  Best of all, the found diapers and toilet paper, two of the hardest items to come by.  They took some empty milk crates from the back storage room and loaded them with everything they could.  

Daryl checked the candy aisle and emptied the boxes of Michonne and Carol's favorite candy bars.  He learned early on that they were especially grateful of the little surprises like this, so when he could, he picked up the things he knew they liked.  Just for fun, he took a few rolls of scratch off lottery tickets.  He always wondered if there was any truth to the story Merle told him about every thirteenth ticket being a winner of some kind.  Now was his time to find out.

 

As Daryl tossed the last of their supplies into the truck, Rick shuffled through a cd case that he found under the seat of the pickup.  Some of the names he knew, like The Doors, Hank Williams, and The Beatles.  Others he wasn’t so sure of.  He decided on a compilation of songs from the Sixties that someone probably bought from a late night infomercial with some fading star.  Many were songs he had grown up with, and he even caught Daryl humming along from time to time.  

 

A song came on that Rick could remember hearing often.  Maybe it was from his mom, could be his older brother and his band, but he knew it and loved it.  He actually began singing along.  He chuckled to himself, he realized how odd it was now doing something as simple as ride around in a truck, singing with your friend.  He took his hand off the wheel at clapped Daryl on the shoulder, but he pulled away from Rick’s touch as if the man’s hand had burned him.

 

Slowly, the words registered in his mind, Rick’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter.  It was as if the lyrics were written by the man sitting next to him in the pickup.  He didn’t need to glance at the other man again to see where his eyes were focused.  He could feel them, burning holes straight through his soul.

 

  
_But it's too late to say you're sorry_

_How would I know, why should I care_

_Please don't bother tryin' to find her_

_She's not there_

 

_Well, let me tell you 'bout the way she looked_

_The way she'd act and the color of her hair_

_Her voice was soft and cool_

_Her eyes were clear and bright_

_But she's not there_

 

 

Well, if that ain’t the fuckin’ truth…  She’s gone, and the asshole sitting next to him, the man he had thought of  almost like a brother, left her to fend for herself.  He said he left her with enough supplies to get by, but his word didn’t mean shit now.  Come to think of it, maybe it never had.

 

Each word in this song fit how he was feeling.  An apology from Rick wouldn't mean anything.  The damage was done the moment he left her behind.  Maybe she was still there, hiding in a house within the subdivision where she was deserted, or maybe she was miles away now.  He went back to search the area as soon as Rick had confessed the asshole move he had made, but she left no trace that she was there.  She was an excellent student and quickly became almost as good as he was at tracking and covering her tracks.

 

“She doesn’t make it, she dies, I’ll kill you,” Daryl hissed, taking the other man in his sights.  He took out and a bolt and his small utility knife and began etching something on the side of the bolt and tossed it up on the dashboard in front of Rick.  He smirked as Rick’s nervousness became apparent after reading his name on the bolt.  Daryl put his foot up on the dash and let his thoughts about that song take precedence over his anger at Rick.

 

* * *

  
Rick had been in some bad situations before in his line of work, but nothing he recalled had him as nervous as this.  He was stuck in close quarters with a man who wanted to kill him for deserting his woman, at least he was acting as though she was.  Maybe he had underestimated their connection.

 

Words flew through his head, some apologetic, some defensive, but none would matter.  Knowing where Daryl’s head was, he knew it would be more beneficial to stay quiet.  He turned the volume down and concentrated on the road in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Daryl had never heard this song before, but would never forget it.   What really hit home was the description of the woman in the lyrics.  A ghost of her danced in his head, her bright blue eyes full of life and focused on his.

 

Never would he have said he was a man who regretted things, but since meeting her, that had changed.  There were so many things left unsaid, and they may stay that way.  He leaned his head against the window of the truck as their past conversations haunted his mind.  Every kind word he remembered tugged at his heartstrings a little more than the last.  
  


_“You’re every bit as good as them.”_

  
_“I can’t lose you too.”_

  
_“Until you found me.”_

 

The tightness in his throat was making it harder to breath as he replayed those three little words over a few times.  He had never wished for something to be true before.

  
_“Nine lives, remember?”_

 

Knowing she had to have a couple of those lives left gave him the hope he needed.  He’d wouldn’t stop looking for her, even if it killed him.  First, he just had to get out of this fucking truck.


End file.
